An All Grown Up Christmas Carol
by TheDisneyFan365
Summary: Parody of A Christmas Carol, Rugrats/All Grown Up, Disney, Nickelodeon, Kid Icarus, and Fire Emblem style. Peter, the Rugrats, Zack, Jesse, some Disney Characters, and other characters reluctantly participate in a play production of 'A Christmas Carol'. How will it go?
1. Prologue

**Chapter 1: Prologue**

 _"Location: Orlando, Florida, December 24th 2016"_

That most wondrous time of year had befallen on the Magic Kingdom and the rest of the world once again. The time when wreaths were hung on the doors, glowing evergreens filled the streets, mistletoe and holly as far as the eye could see, and bright beautiful lights lit up each and every one of the buildings. It was Christmastime and a gentle snowfall fell on the streets of Main Street, with all of the Disney Characters and Nickelodeon Characters gathered in front of the castle.

In the dressing quarters of Cinderella Castle, the Rugrats, Zack, Jesse, and some other characters from other worlds were dressed in Victorian wear, preparing for to go out on stage for an interpretation of 'A Christmas Carol'. Usually, the Disney Characters would do the special event, but in this particular instance, Mickey and company that originally had intended to perform the play had caught a bad case of the flu. Mickey then received word to have Peter, the Rugrats, Zack, and Jesse do the play instead, and he had some of the Disney Characters that remained healthy and some characters from other worlds participate in the play as well. Some of them accepted right away to do the play, while others were reluctant to do it, but they all agreed to participate in it, for those that couldn't. They rehearsed for the remaining weeks, and that night, they would perform for the whole Magic Kingdom.

"I can't believe we let Mickey talk us into this!" Jesse said as he got into his costume.

"Yeah! Although we'll do this for those that became ill, I wanted to do a Christmas party, not a play." Lil said.

"Stop complaining. At least we're getting paid." Susie said as she fixed her hair.

"I don't think it's so bad." Jill DeVille, who had been one of the other world characters, along with Pit, Iniabi, and Severa, said.

"Not so bad? All that talk about love and joy and... giving and sharing... it's enough to make you gag!" Severa said.

"But what about all the presents?" Iniabi asked.

"That part I don't mind so much." Severa replied.

"I do prefer getting things, rather then giving things." Angelica said.

"Yeah, like diamonds and rubies and jewelry!" Amber, who was one of the Disney Characters participating in the play, along with Gaston, Le Fou, Kopa, Elsa, and Hans, said.

"The only worst part about Christmas for me are those annoying carolers. Stopping at your door, and singing the same songs over and over and over again. And don't get me started about Christmas songs before the Thanksgiving season is over!" Gaston said.

"I actually like Jingle Bells." Le Fou said.

Gaston responded by hitting him in the head with his wig.

"While Christmas is a wonderful time to me, I don't like it when people waste their time believing in such frivolous figures such as Santa Claus." Peter said.

"Whaaaat? Santa Claus isn't real? But I made some cookies." Kopa asked sarcastically.

The Pridelands heir showed purposefully burnt and misshapen cookies.

"If Santa saw those, he'd quit cookies altogether." Phil said.

"Well, I also think Christmas is a wonderful time." Elsa said.

"Christmas was always a nightmare for me. My twelve brothers always got the best gifts, while I was stuck with hands-me-downs. Although, my Christmases have improved in more recent years." Hans said.

Tommy turned to Zack, who was finishing putting on his costume.

"What about you, Zack?" Tommy asked.

Zack didn't say anything. He just turned with one eye to the dark purple haired boy, stood up from his seat, and walked off. In the hallway, he stopped and tilted his head down. Like some people, Christmas was not the best time for him, but that mainly had to do with his past, as his parents had died on Christmas eve, so the holiday hurt him the most. Suddenly, Ludwig Von Drake, who was dressed up in formal wear and had directed the whole production, came in and informed the cast that it was almost time to begin the play.

"Alright, let's get this over with." Chuckie said.

Zack, Le Fou, and Hans followed Ludwig to the front of the drawbridge, where he told them stay put until the start of the play. The crowd was still there, and as Ludwig Von Drake entered onto the stage, the play was about to begin.

"Good evening! Merry Christmas, felis navidad, and all that other fancy holiday talk. I would like to welcome you all to the Magic Kingdom's interpretation of the classic holiday classic, 'A Christmas Carol'. Unfortunately, our original cast caught a bad cold, so we had to settle for volunteers. But hopefully, they won't screw things up... hopefully... I pray... uh, anyway, without further ado, this is, 'A Christmas Carol'." Ludwig announced.

With the gentle applause from the audience, Ludwig departed the stage, and the play began.


	2. Zackary Wehrenberg

**Chapter 2: Zackary Wehrenberg**

Angelica Pickles was dead, to begin with. Dead as a doornail, there was no doubt about that. Did Zack know she was dead? Of course he did. He said so himself. Zack was her sole executor, her sole administrator, her sole mourner, and her sole friend.

Zack never painted out Old Angelica's name. There it stood, years afterwards, above the warehouse door: Zack and Angelica. The firm was known as Wehrenberg and Pickles. Sometimes, people new to the business called Wehrenberg Wehrenberg, and sometimes Pickles, but he answered to both names. It was all the same to him.

But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grind-stone! A squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner! Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire. Secret, self-contained, and solitary as an oyster. The cold did not bother him, not his skin or his nose. He always carried his own low temperature about with him. He iced his office in the dog-days, and didn't thaw it one degree at Christmas. No wind that blew was bitterer then he, no falling snow was more intent upon it's purpose, no pelting rain less open to entreaty. Foul weather didn't know where to have him. The heaviest rain, snow, hail, and sleet could boast of the advantage over him in only one respect. They often "came down" handsomely, and Zack never did.

Nobody ever stopped him in the street to say "My dear Zack, how are you? When will you come to see me?". No beggars implored him for a small amount of money, no children asked him what time it was, and no man or woman ever once thought to bother Old Zack. Even the tallest men feared him and felt a cold aura from him passing by them.

Old Zack sat busy in his counting-house. It was cold, bleak, biting weather, and he could hear the people in the court outside. The time had only just reached 3:00, but it was quite dark already. It hadn't been light all day and the fog was as dense as pea soup. Zack often kept his eye upon his clerk, Le Fou, who, in a dismal little cell beyond, was copying letters. Zack had a very small fire, but the clerk's fire was so very much smaller that it practically chilled him to the bone. But he couldn't make it any larger, for Zack kept the coal box in his own room. The clerk put on his white comforter and tried to warm himself at the candle, but unfortunately, it didn't help. Just then, a cheerful voice cried out from the door of Zack's counting house.

"Merry Christmas, Uncle! God save you!" the voice cried.

It was the voice of Zack's nephew, Hans.

"Christmas? Bah! Humbug!" Zack sneered.

"Christmas a humbug, uncle? Oh, come on, you don't mean that." Hans said.

"Yes, I do. What is there to be merry about on Christmas? And what right do you have to be so merry? Your dirt poor!" Zack asked.

"Well, what right do you have to be so miserable? Your filthy rich!" Hans asked.

Zack, having no better answer ready on the spur of the moment, said "Bah!" again and followed it up with "Humbug.".

"Come on, don't be so cross, uncle!" Hans said.

"Well, what else can I be in a world of fools like this? What's Christmas time anyway, but a time for paying bills without money? A time for finding yourself a year older, but not a penny richer? A time for buying things you ask for day in and day out, only to use them for about a week and throw them away soon after? If I had my way, every fool who goes about with 'Merry Christmas' on his lips would be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart!" Zack said.

"Uncle!" Hans pleaded.

"Nephew! Keep your own opinions about Christmas and let me keep mine." Zack said sternly.

"Keep it? But you don't keep it at all!" Hans said.

"And I don't plan on it either. Christmas hasn't done me any good at all. Hasn't done you much good either." Zack said.

"Well, there are many things which I have and have not profited from. And Christmas is one of the things that dare I say, I have not. But I have always thought of Christmas as a good time. A kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time when men and women seem to open their shut-up hearts freely, and bring joy and happiness to others. And so, Uncle Zack, even though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good, and will do me good! And therefore, I say, God bless it!" Hans said.

Le Fou applauded at Hans enthusiastic words, which prompted Zack to stand up from his table.

"Le Fou! One more word out of you and you'll be celebrating your Christmas without a job!" Zack snapped.

Quickly, Le Fou returned to his work. Zack turned to his nephew.

"Your quite the speaker, Hans. It's wonder you don't run for parliament." Zack said.

"Don't be so grumpy, Uncle Zack. Come and have Christmas dinner with me tomorrow." Hans said.

"No thanks. I'd rather throw myself in a furnace first." Zack said.

"But why?" Hans asked.

"I've got more important things to think about then Christmas or a Christmas dinner. Besides, I'm surprised you can afford with the salary you and that wife of yours have. Why did you marry such a poor woman anyway?" Zack asked.

"Because I fell in love with her." Hans replied.

"I hate to break this to you, but marriage for love doesn't pay the bills, and it doesn't put you so-called food on the table. Now, if your done, I've got work to do." Zack said.

"Well, I'm sorry you feel that way. But I still wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!" Hans said.

He then left the counting house, but not before wishing the same to Le Fou.

"Humbug! And the nerve of my clerk, with fifteen a week, and not to mention a wife and family, blabbering about a merry Christmas. The whole thing will drive me crazy soon enough." Zack muttered.

As Hans departed, two more people entered, asking for the owners of the establishment. One was a blue haired man and the other was a dark blonde pigtail haired girl. Le Fou directed them to Zack. The two were known as Iniabi and Severa.

"Well, well, have I the pleasure of addressing Mr. Wehrenberg or Miss Pickles?" Iniabi asked.

"Miss Pickles has been dead for seven years. In fact, she died seven years ago, tonight." Zack replied.

"Oh, I see. Well, we have no doubt her generosity is well represented by her surviving partner." Iniabi said. Severa handed Iniabi his papers, and he said "You see, at this wonderful time year, my friend and I are collecting for the poor and destitute. Nothing to formal, just enough for some food and comfort if it fancies you, sir.".

"It doesn't. Aren't there any prisons?" Zack asked.

"Well, yes, there are plenty of prisons." Iniabi replied.

"And the Union Workhouses are still in operation?" Zack asked.

"Yes, but I wish I could say they weren't." Iniabi replied.

"Good! Because from the sound of it, I thought they had stopped working. Good to know they are." Zack said.

"Well, in any case, at this time of the year, a few of us are endeavoring to raise a fund to buy the poor some meat and drink, and means of warmth. We feel that Christmas is the most appropriate time, since it is a marvelous time for generosity." Iniabi said.

Severa nodded.

"What shall I put you down for?" Severa asked.

Zack pretended to think for a moment.

"Nothing." Zack replied.

"Oh, I see. Of course! You wish to be anonymous." Iniabi said.

"What I wish to be is alone!" Zack snapped.

"But Mr. Wehrenberg..." Severa started to say.

"I can't afford to make random poor people merry at Christmas! Besides, my money helps pay for the places I just mentioned. They cost enough, so those who are badly off must go there." Zack said.

"But many can't go there, and quite frankly, many would rather die." Zack said.

"If they would rather die, then they had better do it and decrease the surplus population. Besides, it's not my problem." Zack said.

"Isn't it?" Iniabi asked.

"No, it isn't. It really isn't. There's the door. Don't let it hit you on the way out." Zack replied.

And with that, Iniabi and Severa departed.

* * *

Later, the feel of Christmas was as vibrant as a newly lit candle in the town. Roast turkeys glistened with dressing outside the windows of shops, carefree children engaged in snowball fights, and the sound of carolers filled the chilly air. It was now 7:00, which meant it was closing time. Reluctantly, Zack dismounted from his table and upon seeing his clerk, Le Fou, admitted the fact to him as he instantly snuffed his candle out and put on his hat.

"Let me guess, you want the day off tomorrow, am I right?" Zack asked.

"If that's fine with you, sir." Le Fou replied.

"It's not fine and it's not fair either! If I cut your pay, you would accuse me of being unfair, but at the same time, you wouldn't think I was unfair if I paid you a day's wages for no work." Zack said.

"Well, i-i-it's only once a year... sir." Le Fou said nervously.

"Heh, just a poor excuse for picking a business man's pocket every twenty-fifth of December! But I guess you may have the day off. Just be here all the earlier the day after Christmas." Zack said, buttoning his great-coat to the chin.

Le Fou promised that he would, and Zack walked out with a growl as he wished him a Merry Christmas, to which he responded 'Humbug!'.


	3. Angelica's Ghost

**Chapter 3: Angelica's Ghost**

The office was closed in a twinkling, and as Le Fou turned, he saw a bunch of boys sliding down a hill on the street. He himself slid down it about twenty times before making his way home as fast as he could.

As for Zack, he also took his leave of his counting house and went straight for home. He lived in chambers which had once belonged to his deceased partner. They were a gloomy suite of rooms, and the house itself was no Spring Getaway either, but Zack didn't mind as long as he had a house. He went up to his door, but after having his key in the lock of the door, he saw in the knocker, not a knocker, but Angelica's face. The ghostly face stared at the blonde haired man intently, but at the same time, it stared at him calmingly. Upon first glance, one could not measure the emotion coming from the face and Zack himself could not as well. But after a few seconds, the face disappeared and it was a knocker once again. To say that Zack was not startled would've been a huge lie. But in spite of it, he put his hand upon the key he had relinquished, turned it sturdily, walked in, and lit a candle.

"Bah! It's all hogwash." Zack said to himself.

He walked up the stairs.

* * *

In his room, Zack prepared to spend his Christmas as he usually did. He placed on his sleeping gown, nightcap, and slippers, sat next to the fire in his fireplace, and had a small bowl full of gruel.

Nothing was too different about this night. It was the same as any other night to him. Or, at least, it seemed that way. For as Zack half-finished his bowl of gruel and placed it on the small table next to the fireplace, there was suddenly a clanking noise down below, as if some person were dragging a heavy chain in the wine-merchant's cellar. Zack then remembered hearing stories about ghosts in haunted houses that were described as dragging chains. The cellar-door flew open with a booming sound, and then he heard the noise much louder on the floors below, before coming up the stairs and straight towards his door.

"It's all hogwash! I don't believe in ghosts!" Zack shouted.

But his belief was challenged when, without a pause, it came on through the heavy door and passed into the room before his eyes. It was Angelica's ghost. She looked the same as she did in life, but this time, she appeared to carry chains with her. The chain she drew was clasped about her middle, was long, and wound about her like a tail. And it was made, as Zack observed it closely, of cash-boxes, keys, padlocks, ledgers, deeds, and heavy purses wrought in steel. Her body was transparent, and looking through her dress, Zack could see the two buttons on her dress behind.

"Who are you and want do you want?" Zack asked.

"Ask me who I was." Angelica replied.

"Fine, who were you?" Zack asked.

"In life, I was your partner, Angelica Pickles." Angelica replied.

"What? That's ridiculous! Angelica's dead!" Zack said in disbelief.

"You don't believe in me?" Angelica asked.

"No, your just a figment of my imagination caused by indigestion. I must've had a little too much cold gruel or something." Zack replied.

At that, the spirit raised a frightful cry and shook it's chain with such a dismal and appalling noise that Zack held on tight to his chair, to save himself from falling.

"Please have mercy on me!" Zack cried.

"Man of the worldly mind, do you believe in me or not?" Angelica asked angrily.

"I do, I do! Okay? I do! But what are you doing here?" Zack asked.

"It is required of every man or woman that the spirit within them should walk abroad among their fellowmen, and travel far and wide. And if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death. It is doomed to wander through the world and witness what it cannot share, but might have shared on earth, and turned to happiness!" Angelica replied.

Again, the specter raised a cry, and shook it's chain and wrung it's shadowy hands.

"But what's with the chains?" Zack asked.

"I wear the chain I forged in life. I made it link by link, and yard by yard. I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will, I wore it. Is its pattern strange to you? Or would you know the weight and length of the strong coil you bear yourself? It was full as heavy and as long as this, seven Christmas Eves ago. You have labored on it, since. It is a ponderous chain!" Angelica replied.

"Okay, your really glumming the moment here. Say something positive." Zack said.

"I have nothing positive to give. It comes from other regions, Zack, and is conveyed by other ministers, to other kinds of men. Nor can I tell you what I would. A very little more is all permitted to me. I cannot rest, I cannot stay, I cannot linger anywhere. In life, my spirit never walked beyond our counting-house, never roved beyond the narrow limits of our money-changing hole, and weary journeys lie before me!" Angelica said.

"You must've covered a lot of ground in seven years." Zack said.

"Yes, seven years dead. And travelling all the time! No rest, no peace. Only incessant torture of remorse. Oh, captive, bound, and double-ironed. Not to know, that ages of incessant labor by immortal creatures, for this earth must pass into eternity before the good of which it is susceptible is all developed. Not to know that any Christian spirit working kindly in it's little sphere, whatever it may be, will find it's mortal life too short for it's vast means of usefulness. Not to know that no space of regret can make amends for one life's opportunity misused! Yet such was I! Oh, such was I!" Angelica said.

"But you were always a good woman of business." Zack said.

"Mankind was my business! The common welfare was my business! Charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence were all my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business! At this time of the rolling year, I suffer most. Why did I walk through crowds of fellow-beings with my eyes turned down, and never raise them to that blessed Star which led the Wise Men to a poor abode? Were there no poor homes to which it's light would have conducted me?" Angelica yelled.

Zack shivered at Angelica's words.

"Hear me! My time is nearly gone. I am here tonight to warn you, that you have yet a chance and hope of escaping my fate. A chance and hope of my procuring, Zack." Angelica said.

"You were always a good friend to me, Angelica." Zack said.

"You will be haunted by three spirits. Without their visits, you cannot hope to shun the path I tread. Expect the first tomorrow, when the bell tolls One." Angelica said.

"Couldn't they all just come at once so I can get it over with?" Zack asked.

"Expect the second on the next night at the same hour, and expect the third upon the next night when the last stroke of Twelve has ceased to vibrate. Look to see me no more, and look that, for your own sake, remember what has passed between us!" Angelica replied.

With those words, the specter departed through the window. Zack rushed to the window, but saw nothing. He then closed the window and examined the door by which Angelica had entered. It was double-locked, as he had locked it with his own hands, and the bolts were undisturbed. He tried to say "Humbug!", but stopped at the first syllable. And being tired from either the emotion he had undergone, or the fatigues of the day, or the dull conversation of Angelica's ghost, or the lateness of the hour, he went straight to bed and instantly fell asleep.


	4. The First Ghost

**Chapter 4: The First Ghost**

Now, Zack wasn't really one to believe in ghosts, but far be it for him to disregard Angelica's words. Plus, after seeing her as a ghost herself, who was he to deny it any other way? But regardless, he remained asleep for the past couple of hours, until he was awoken by the sound of a bell. Remembering what Angelica had told him, he quickly sat up in his bed, listened carefully to each gong, and looked around, searching for any sign of the first spirit.

As the hour bell tolled, but he did not see any sign of the spirit and figured that it was all a humbug. But when the hour bell finally tolled, a white light flashed in the room. He pulled back the curtains. It was the first of the spirits Angelica had mentioned. It was a strange figure indeed. A girl with dark brown hair, wearing a cloth of the purest white. She held a long scepter with a branch of fresh green holly at the tip.

"Are you the one of the three spirits?" Zack asked.

"Yes, I am." the spirit replied.

The voice was soft and gentle. Singularly low, as if instead of being so close beside him, it was at a distance.

"Who are you?" Zack asked.

"I am Lil, the Ghost of Christmas Past." the spirit replied.

"Long Past?" Zack asked.

"No. Your past." Lil replied.

The girl's scepter glowed with the brightest glow, and Zack quickly shielded his eyes and got back under the covers of his bed.

"Hiding again, I see. That seems to be your top priority since you hide yourself from the rest of the world. You choose not to make merry at Christmastime and claim that you can't make other people merry, though if you ask me, you are only hiding your own insecurities." Lil said.

Zack confronted the spirit on that statement. But the issue was not important to her. What was important to her was his welfare and reclamation.

"Bear but a touch of my robe." the spirit ordered.

Reluctantly, but surely, Zack obliged to the spirit's request. And with that, Lil waved her scepter, and a white fog and flames surrounded them both. Zack was frightened, but was also shocked to find that the flames did not hurt him. When the smoke and flames cleared, they stood upon an open country road, with fields on either side. The city had entirely vanished. Not a vestige of it was to be seen. The darkness and the mist had vanished with it, for it was a clear, cold, winter day, with snow upon the ground.

"Oh my! I remember this place! I spent most of my childhood here!" Zack said, clasping his hands together as he looked about him.

The spirit gazed upon him mildly.

"Is that a tear I see, Zackary?" Lil asked.

"What? No! I just got snow in my eyes." Zack replied.

"Do you remember the way?" Lil asked.

"Remember it? I could've found this place blindfolded." Zack replied.

"Strange that you remember it so well after having forgotten it for so many years." Lil said.

Zack went to greet some of his old classmates as they rode by, but they did not hear him.

"These are merely shadows of things that have been. They cannot see or hear us. And look, there is your school, not quite deserted. A solitary child, neglected by his friends remains. Left all alone on Christmas day." Lil explained.

Zack knew what she was talking about and drooped his head. They went inside, and low and behold, next to a small fire was Zack. Indeed left all alone for the holidays, sad, miserable, and lonely. The scene directed Zack back to a previous statement he had said to his nephew about Christmas never doing him any good. But then, Lil waved her wand again and the scene changed. Zack was older, and for another Christmas, there he was, alone again, while all the other boys had gone home for the jolly holidays. Zack looked at Lil with a mournful shaking of his head as his former self walked up and down the room despairingly and then glanced anxiously towards the door. It opened and two girls as old as he was, one a blonde haired girl and other a dark skinned girl, came darting in, fighting with each other to get to him first. Finally, the dark skinned girl made it to him first and grabbed him.

"Dear, dear brother!" the girl greeted.

"Susie?" Young Zack asked.

Just then, the blonde haired girl knocked Susie over and grabbed Zack herself.

"We've come to bring you home, dear brother! To bring you home, home, home!" the blonde haired girl replied as she swung him around.

"Home, Amber?" Young Zack asked.

Susie shoved her sister aside.

"Yes! Home, forever! And ever and ever and ever! Mother is so much kinder then she used to be, that home's like a dream!" Susie replied.

"She spoke so gently to us one night that we were not afraid to ask her again if you might come home." Amber explained.

"And she said yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!" Susie exclaimed.

"And she sent us in a coach to bring you!" Amber added.

"You two are quite the ladies." Young Zack said.

The two sisters clapped their hands and laughed. They patted Young Zack on the head and then embraced him, before taking him towards the door with childish eagerness.

"A little clumsy, your sisters." Lil said.

"A lot clumsy, actually." Zack said.

"But they had large hearts." Lil said.

"They died as young woman." Zack said as a tear dripped from his face.

"And one of them had children, I believe." Lil said.

"Amber. She had one child." Zack said.

"True. Your nephew." Lil said.

Zack became uneasy.

"Yes." Zack said.

"Come, let us see more of your past." Lil said.

Zack slowly grabbed Lil's cloth and the two teleported again. This time, they appeared in front of an old warehouse. Lil stopped at the door of the warehouse.

"Do you remember this place?" Lil asked.

"Remember it? I used to work here!" Zack replied.

They went in, and there stood Zack's old boss, Gaston, sitting behind a high desk.

"Hey, it's old Gaston! Bless my soul! It's Gaston alive again!" Zack exclaimed.

Gaston laid down his pen and looked up at the clock, which pointed to the hour of seven. He rubbed his hands, adjusted his capacious waistcoat, laughed all over himself, from his shoes to his organ of benevolence, and called out in a comfortable, oily, rich, fat, jovial voice.

"Yo ho, there! Zackary, Angelica!" Gaston called out.

Zack's younger self came briskly in, accompanied by his fellow apprentice and soon-to-be partner.

"No more work tonight, you two! It's Christmas Eve, so put down those pencils and let's have a good ole time!" Gaston said.

So with that, Zack and Angelica cleared everything in a flash. In came a fiddler with a music-book, went up to the lofty desk, and made an orchestra of it, and tuned like fifty stomach-aches. In came Mrs. Gaston, or Jill as she was known, with one vast substantial smile. In came all the young men and women employed in the business. In came the housemaid, with her cousin, the baker. In came the cook, with her brother's particular friend, the milkman. In came the boy from over the way, who was suspected of not having board enough from his master, and was trying to hide himself behind the girl from next door but one, who was proved to have had her ears pulled by her mistress. In they all came, one after another, some shyly, some boldly, some gracefully, some awkwardly, some pushing, some pulling. In they all came, anyhow and every how. Away they all went, twenty couples at once, hands half round and back again the other way, down the middle and up again, round and round in various stages of affectionate grouping, old top couple always turning up in the wrong place, new top couple starting off again, as soon as they got there, all top couples at last, and not a bottom one to help them! When this result was brought about, old Gaston clapped his hands to stop the dance.

"Well done!" Gaston called out.

The fiddler plunged his hot face into a pot of porter, especially provided for that purpose. But scorning rest, upon his reappearance, he instantly began again, though there were no dancers yet, as if the other fiddler had been carried home, exhausted, on a shutter, and he were a bran-new man resolved to beat him out of sight, or perish. There were more dances, and there was cake, and a great piece of Cold Roast, and there was a great piece of Cold Boiled, and there were mince-pies, and plenty of beer. But the great effect of the evening came after the Roast and Boiled, when the fiddler struck up "Sir Roger de Coverley". Then, old Gaston stood out to dance with Jill.

During the whole of this time, Zack's seemingly cold heart had started to melt a little. His heart and soul were in the scene, with his former self. He remembered everything, enjoyed everything, and underwent the strangest feeling. It was not until now, when the bright faces of his former self and Angelica were turned from them, that he remembered Lil, who was looking upon him.

"A small matter. A small matter to make these silly folks so happy." Lil said.

"Small? Hogwash!" Zack said.

"Isn't it? It's only a little money to say the least. A few pound to be sure. Is that really enough to warrant him this praise?" Lil asked.

"It's not about the money! No! The kind of happiness he gives can't be measured in gold or anything like that." Zack replied, angered by the remark.

He felt the spirit's glance and stopped.

"Is something the matter?" Lil asked.

"No, nothing. Nothing at all." Zack replied.

"Are you sure?" the ghost asked.

"Yes." Zack replied quickly.

As the party continued, his glance turned to his former self walking towards a young maiden. A fair maiden with short dark purple hair and wearing a yellow dress. And upon that instance, a feeling of both joy and heartache befell Zack. It was none other then Kimi, his former love. She had previously rejected the formers that had asked her for a dance, so Zack's former self was of course nervous to approach her. But nonetheless, he sucked it up and walked to her.

"Um... Miss Kimi?" Young Zack asked.

Kimi looked over at him.

"You... look lovely this evening. Might I have the honor of a dance?" Young Zack asked.

Kimi agreed, and the two danced. At that moment, for the both of them, it was as if time stood still.

"Well, you dance divinely." Kimi said.

"Your not so bad yourself." Young Zack said.

They danced and danced and danced for the rest of the night. Lil waved her wand again and the two were in a house, where Zack's past self stood before Kimi, dropped on one knee. He took a small box out of his pocket and opened it, revealing a diamond ring.

"Madame Watanabe, will you marry me?" Young Zack asked.

"Yes!" Kimi replied happily.

She grabbed Zack and the two kissed. As Zack watched on, he remembered the moment as one of the happiest he had ever experienced in his life. But then, he remembered another moment. As he did, Lil again waved her wand.

"My time grows short." Lil said.

That was not addressed to Zack, or to anyone whom he could see, but it produced an immediate effect. For again, Zack saw himself. He was now in the prime of life. His face had not the harsh and rigid lines of later years, but it had begun to wear the signs of care and avarice. There was an eager, greedy, restless motion in the eye, which showed the passion that had taken root, and where the shadow of the growing tree would fall. He was not alone, but sat by the side of Kimi, who was wearing a mourning dress, and in whose eyes there were tears.

"It matters little. Another love has replaced me. Another idol." Kimi said.

"What are you talking about? What idol?" Young Zack asked.

"A golden one." Kimi replied.

"This is a harsh world, Kimi. And in it you have only two choices: you either eat or be eaten, and forgive me if I don't want an empty plate on my table." Young Zack said.

"You fear the world too much. You've changed so much since that day we met at Gaston's. I would like very much to say for the better." Kimi said.

"I haven't changed towards you." Young Zack said.

Kimi shook her head.

"Our contract is an old one. It was made when we were both poor and content to be so, until, in good season, we could improve our worldly fortune. You were a different man then." Kimi said.

"I was a poor boy!" Young Zack snapped, banging his fists on the table.

"In wealth, yes, you were poor. But in your heart, you were the richest beyond anyone who saw you. But now, your pursuit of wealth in the physical affair has changed you. And so with a deep, deep, oh so deep love in my heart for the man I knew that Christmas night, I release you, Zackary." Kimi said.

"Have I ever asked to be released? Have I ever asked to stop our marriage?" Young Zack asked.

"In words, no. Not at all. But let me ask you. If you had to choose, would you on your best day choose a penniless girl like me?" Kimi asked.

He seemed to yield to the justice of the accusation, in spite of himself.

"Well..." Young Zack started to replied with a struggle.

Kimi turned to him and gave him the ring he had once given her.

"As I said, with the hope that one day that heart that beated oh so lovely once upon a time ago will beat again, I release you, Zackary. May you be happy in the life you have chosen!" Kimi said.

She left him, and they parted. Zack dropped to the ground.

"Show me no more! SHOW ME NO MORE! No more! No more! Show me no more!" Zack shouted.

"These are the shadows of what has been. Do not blame me, for it is not my fault." Lil explained calmly.

As Zack shook on the ground with combined grief, anger, and sorrow, the white mist surrounded him again. When it cleared, Zack was in his bedroom again. He was conscious of being exhausted, and overcome by an irresistible drowsiness. He wasn't sure if he was dreaming or not, but at the moment, he didn't care think as he sank into a heavy sleep.


	5. The Second Ghost

**Chapter 5: The Second Ghost**

Now prepared for almost anything, Zack was not by any means prepared for nothing. Consequently, when the Bell struck One, and no shape appeared, he was taken with a violent fit of trembling. Five minutes, ten minutes, a quarter of an hour went by, yet nothing came. All this time, he lay upon his bed, the very core and center of a blaze of ruddy light, which streamed upon it when the clock proclaimed the hour. And which, being only light, was more alarming than a dozen ghosts, as he was powerless to make out what it meant or would be at, and was sometimes apprehensive that he might be at that very moment an interesting case of spontaneous combustion, without having the consolation of knowing it. At last, however, he began to think, as you or I would have thought at first, for it is always the person not in the predicament who knows what ought to have been done in it, and would unquestionably have done it too, at last, I say, he began to think that the source and secret of this ghostly light might be in the adjoining room, from whence, on further tracing it, it seemed to shine. This idea taking full possession of his mind, he got up softly and shuffled in his slippers to the door.

The moment Zack's hand was on the lock, a strange voice called him by his name and bade him enter. He obeyed. It was his own room, there was no doubt about that. But it had undergone a surprising transformation. The walls and ceiling were so hung with living green, that it looked a perfect grove. From every part of which, bright gleaming berries glistened. The crisp leaves of holly, mistletoe, and ivy reflected back the light, as if so many little mirrors had been scattered there. And such a mighty blaze went roaring up the chimney, as that dull petrifaction of a hearth had never known in Zack's time, or Angelica's, or for many and many a winter season gone. Heaped up on the floor, to form a kind of throne were turkeys, geese, game, poultry, brawn, great joints of meat, sucking-pigs, long wreaths of sausages, mince-pies, plum-puddings, barrels of oysters, red-hot chestnuts, cherry-cheeked apples, juicy oranges, luscious pears, immense twelfth-cakes, and seething bowls of punch that made the chamber dim with their delicious steam. In easy state upon this couch, there sat a jolly Giant, glorious to see, who bore a glowing torch in a shape not unlike Plenty's horn, and held it high up, to shed it's light on Zack as he came peeping round the door.

"Come in! Come in! and know me better, man! Well, don't just stand there! Get your fuzzy butt in here!" the ghost exclaimed.

Zack entered timidly and hung his head before the spirit.

"I'm Dil, the Ghost of Christmas Present." the spirit introduced with a heavy chortle.

The spirit was clothed in one simple green robe, or mantle, that was bordered with white fur. This garment hung so loosely on the figure, that it's capacious breast was bare, as if disdaining to be warded or concealed by any artifice. It's feet, observable beneath the ample folds of the garment, were also bare. And on its head it wore no other covering then a holly wreath, set here and there with shining icicles. It's light red curls were long and free, free as it's genial face, it's sparkling eye, it's open hand, it's cheery voice, it's unconstrained demeanor, and it's joyful air. Girded round it's middle was an antique scabbard, but no sword was in it, and the ancient sheath was eaten up with rust.

"Haven't seen the likes of me before, have ya?" Dil asked as he took a bite out of a giant drumstick.

"Nope, never." Zack replied.

Dil dismounted from Zack's couch and approached him.

"Well, that's probably because you've done spent a little too much time in that dern' countin' house of yers'. Constant dollar bills and coins in your eyes, ya can't even tell left from right." Dil said.

"A good business man always seeks good profit." Zack said.

"Yeah, but what about the profit of others, hmmm? Especially around this time of year, there are lots of people who need lots and lots of profit!" Dil asked.

"And I guess your here to show me that. Well, lead the way." Zack replied submissively.

"Grab a hold of my robe and let's get goin'." Dil ordered.

Zack did as he was told, and held it fast. The holly, mistletoe, red berries, ivy, turkeys, geese, game, poultry, brawn, meat, pigs, sausages, oysters, pies, puddings, fruit, and punch, all vanished instantly. So did the room, the fire, the ruddy glow, and the hour of night, and they stood in the city streets on Christmas morning, where (for the weather was severe) the people made a rough, but brisk and not unpleasant kind of music, in scraping the snow from the pavement in front of their dwellings, and from the tops of their houses, whence it was mad delight to the boys to see it come plumping down into the road below, and splitting into artificial little snowstorms. The house fronts looked black enough, and the windows blacker, contrasting with the smooth white sheet of snow upon the roofs, and with the dirtier snow upon the ground, which last deposit had been plowed up in deep furrows by the heavy wheels of carts and wagons, furrows that crossed and re-crossed each other hundreds of times where the great streets branched off, and made intricate channels, hard to trace in the thick yellow mud and icy water. The sky was gloomy, and the shortest streets were choked up with a dingy mist, half thawed, half frozen, whose heavier particles descended in a shower of sooty atoms, as if all the chimneys in Great Britain had, by one consent, caught fire and were blazing away to their dear hearts content. There was nothing very cheerful in the climate or the town, and yet was there an air of cheerfulness abroad that the clearest summer air and brightest summer sun might have endeavored to diffuse in vain.

The people who were shoveling away on the housetops were jovial and full of glee, calling out to one another from the parapets, and now and then exchanging a facetious snowball-better-natured missile far then many a wordy jest, laughing heartily if it went right and not less heartily if it went wrong. The poulterer' shops were still half open, and the fruiterers were radiant in their glory. There were great, round, pot-bellied baskets of chestnuts, shaped like the waistcoats of jolly old gentlemen, lolling at the doors, and tumbling out into the street in their apoplectic opulence. There were ruddy, brown-faced, broad-girthed Spanish Onions, shining in the fatness of their growth like Spanish Friars, and winking from their shelves in wanton slyness at the girls as they went by, and glanced demurely at the hung-up mistletoe. There were pears and apples, clustered high in blooming pyramids; there were bunches of grapes, made, in the shopkeepers benevolence to dangle from conspicuous hooks, that people's mouths might water gratis as they passed. There were piles of filberts, mossy and brown, recalling, in their fragrance, ancient walks among the woods, and pleasant shufflings ankle deep through withered leaves. There were Norfolk Biffins, squat and swarthy, setting off the yellow of the oranges and lemons, and, in the great compactness of their juicy persons, urgently entreating and beseeching to be carried home in paper bags and eaten after dinner. The very gold and silver fish, set forth among these choice fruits in a bowl, though members of a dull and stagnant-blooded race, appeared to know that there was something going on. And, to a fish, went gasping round and round their little world in slow and passionless excitement.

The Grocers were nearly closed, with perhaps two shutters down or one, but through those gaps were such glimpses! It was not alone that the scales descending on the counter made a merry sound, or that the twine and roller parted company so briskly, or that the canisters were rattled up and down like juggling tricks, or even that the blended scents of tea and coffee were so grateful to the nose, or even that the raisins were so plentiful and rare, the almonds so extremely white, the sticks of cinnamon so long and straight, the other spices so delicious, the candied fruits so caked and spotted with molten sugar as to make the coldest lookers-on feel faint and subsequently bilious. Nor was it that the figs were moist and pulpy, or that the French plums blushed in modest tartness from their highly-decorated boxes, or that everything was good to eat and in it's Christmas dress, but the customers were all so hurried and so eager in the hopeful promise of the day that they tumbled up against each other at the door, crashing their wicker baskets wildly, and left their purchases upon the counter, and came running back to fetch them, and committed hundreds of the like mistakes, in the best humor possible. While the Grocer and his people were so frank and fresh that the polished hearts with which they fastened their aprons behind might have been their own, worn outside for general inspection. But soon, the steeples called good people all, to church and chapel, and away they came, flocking through the streets in their best clothes, and with their gayest faces. And at the same time there emerged from scores of bye-streets, lanes, and nameless turnings, innumerable people, carrying their dinners to the bakers' shops. The sight of these poor revelers appeared to interest the spirit very much, for he stood with Zack beside him in a baker's doorway, and taking off the covers as their bearers passed, sprinkled incense on their dinners from his torch. And it was a very uncommon kind of torch, for once or twice, when there were angry words between some dinner-carriers who had jostled each other, he shed a few drops of water on them from it, and their good humor was restored directly. For they said, it was a shame to quarrel upon Christmas Day. And so it was! God love it, so it was!

In time, the bells ceased, and the bakers were shut up. And yet, there was a genial shadowing forth of all these dinners and the progress of their cooking, in the thawed blotch of wet above each baker's oven, where the pavement smoked as if it's stones were cooking too.

"What is that your sprinkling from your torch?" Zack asked.

"Why, Christmas spirit of course." Dil replied.

"And you sprinkle it on any kind of dinner?" Zack asked.

"To any kindly given. But to a poor one most of all." Dil replied.

"Why?" Zack asked.

Dil knocked Zack on the head with his torch.

"Because they need it most, ya dummy!" Dil replied.

"Well, if the poor need it most, why do you deny them their happiness? There must be many others who are in need. Do you leave them miserable as well?" Zack asked.

"I? Many things are done in the name of good will, but acts made out of passion, pride, ill-will, hatred, envy, bigotry, and selfishness must be attributed to those who are truly responsible. But enough of that for now, we've got more things to do, more places to see. One place in particular." Dil replied.

Dil led Zack straight to the home of his clerk, Le Fou. It wasn't much, but with what Zack paid him, it was really all he could afford. Then up rose Selena, Le Fou's wife, dressed out but poorly in a twice-turned gown, but brave in ribbons, which were cheap and make a goodly show for sixpence. And she laid the cloth, assisted by one of Le Fou's daughters, also brave in ribbons, while one of Le Fou's sons plunged a fork into the saucepan of potatoes, and getting the corners of his monstrous shirt collar (Le Gou's private property, conferred upon his son and heir in honor of the day) into his mouth, rejoiced to find himself so gallantly attired, and yearned to show his linen in the fashionable Parks. And now two smaller kids of Le Fou's, a boy and a girl, came tearing in, screaming that outside the baker's they had smelt the goose, and known it for their own,and basking in luxurious thoughts of sage and onion, those young kids danced about the table and exalted Le Fou to the skies, while he (not proud, although his collars nearly choked him) blew the fire, until the slow potatoes bubbling up, knocked loudly at the saucepan-lid to be let out and peeled. Then in came Le Fou, the father, with at least three feet of comforter exclusive of the fringe, hanging down before him, and his threadbare clothes darned up and brushed to look seasonable, and Tiny Kopa upon his shoulder who had a little crutch, and had his limbs supported by an iron frame. As he set Little Kopa on the floor, he was immediately grabbed by Selena, who hugged him tightly to the point of almost suffocation and drowned him with an array of kisses.

"Good to see you, my darling husband!" Selena exclaimed.

"You... too... dear." Le Fou said, regaining his breath.

"And how did our little Kopa behave in church?" Selena asked, as Le Fou hugged his sons and daughters to his heart's content.

"Like an angel. He was a little mischievous from time to time, but overall, a complete angel. You know, somehow he gets thoughtful, sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him in the church because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to remember upon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk and blind men see." Le Fou replied.

His voice was tremulous when he told them that, and trembled more when he said that Tiny Kopa was growing strong and hearty. His active little crutch was heard upon the floor, and back came Tiny Kopa before another word was spoken, escorted by his brother and sister to his stool before the fire. And while Le Fou turned up his cuffs, they were capable of being made more shabby-compounded some hot mixture in a jug with gin and lemons, and stirred it round and round and put it on the hob to simmer. His two ubiquitous young sons went to fetch the goose, with which they soon returned in high procession.

Such a bustle ensued that you might have thought a goose the rarest of all birds. A feathered phenomenon, to which a black swan was a matter of course, and in truth, it was something very like it in that house. Selena made the gravy (ready beforehand in a little saucepan) hissing hot, Le Fou mashed the potatoes with incredible vigor, Selena sweetened up the apple-sauce, Le Fou dusted the hot plates and then took Tiny Kopa beside him in a tiny corner at the table, and his two young sons set chairs for everybody, not forgetting themselves, and mounting guard upon their posts, crammed spoons into their mouths, lest they should shriek for goose before their turn came to be helped. At last, the dishes were set on, and grace was said. It was succeeded by a breathless pause, as Selena, looking slowly all along the carving-knife, prepared to plunge it in the breast. But when she did, and when the long expected gush of stuffing issued forth, one murmur of delight arose all round the board, and even Tiny Kopa, excited by Le Fou's two young children, beat on the table with the handle of his knife and feebly cried Hurrah!

There never was such a goose. Le Fou said he didn't believe there ever was such a goose cooked. It's tenderness and flavor, size and cheapness, were the themes of universal admiration. Eked out by apple-sauce and mashed potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for the whole family. Indeed, as Selena said with great delight (surveying one small atom of a bone upon the dish), they hadn't ate it all at last! Yet, every one had had enough, and Le Fou's youngest son in particular, were steeped in sage and onion to the eyebrows! But now, after cleaning the plates, Selena left the room, too nervous to bear witnesses, to take the pudding up and bring it in. Suppose it should not be done enough! Suppose it should break in turning out! Suppose somebody should have got over the wall of the backyard and stolen it while they were merry with the goose, a supposition at which two of Le Fou's young kids became livid! All sorts of horrors were supposed. In half a minute, Selena entered, flushed but smiling proudly, with the pudding, like a speckled cannonball, so hard and firm, blazing in half of half-a-quarter of ignited brandy, and bedight with Christmas holly stuck into the top.

"Oh, a wonderful pudding!" Le Fou said calmly.

He regarded it as the greatest success achieved by Selena since their marriage. The redhead said that now the weight was off her mind, she would confess she had had her doubts about the quantity of flour. Everybody had something to say about it, but nobody said or thought it was at all a small pudding for a large family. At last, the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the hearth swept, and the fire made up. The compound in the jug being tasted, and considered perfect, apples and oranges were put upon the table, and a shovel-full of chestnuts on the fire. Then all of Lef Fou's family drew round the hearth, in what he called a circle, meaning half a one, and at his elbow stood the family display of glass. Two tumblers, and a custard-cup without a handle. These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as golden goblets would have done, and Le Fou served it out with beaming looks, while the chestnuts on the fire sputtered and cracked noisily.

"Merry Christmas, everybody! God bless us all!" Le Fou proposed.

All the family re-echoed.

"Yeah, yeah, God bless us every one!" Tiny Kopa said, the last of all.

He sat very close to his father's side upon his little stool. Le Fou held his withered little hand in his, as if he loved the child, and wished to keep him by his side, and dreaded that he might be taken from him.

"Dil? What will happen to the child? Will he make it?" Zack asked, with an interest he had never felt before.

"If these shadows remain unaltered by the future, I see a vacant seat where the child used to be. Pretty soon, Tiny Kopa will die." Dil replied.

"What? No!" Zack said.

"But oh well." Dil said calmly.

"Oh well? Is that all you can say?" Zack asked angrily.

"So what if he dies? It'll just decrease the surplus population." Dil replied.

Zack hung his head to hear his own words quoted by the spirit, and was overcome with penitence and grief.

"Maybe the next time you go and flap those gums of yer's, maybe you should take time and realize just what surplus population is!" Dil said.

Zack bent before the ghost's rebuke, and trembling cast his eyes upon the ground. But he raised them speedily, on hearing his own name.

"And now a toast to my boss, Mr. Wehrenberg, the founder of this feast!" Le Fou said.

"FOUNDER OF THE FEAST INDEED! I wish I had him here! I'd give him a piece of my mind to feast upon, and I hope he'd have a good appetite for it!" Selena shouted, reddening.

"My dear, the children! Christmas Day." Le Fou said.

"It should be Christmas Day, I am sure, on which one drinks the health of such an odious, stingy, hard, unfeeling man as Mr. Wehrenberg. You know he is, Le Fou! Nobody knows it better then you do, poor fellow!" Selena said.

"But my dear, it's Christmas Day." Le Fou said.

"Bah! It would only be Christmas Day in which one drinks the health of such an odious, stingy, hard, unfeeling, despicable man as Mr. Wehrenberg!" Selena sneered.

"I know. He is a bit rough around the edges, but he probably just acts that way because he's not good at acting nice. But let's toast to him anyway, for Christmas Day?" Le Fou asked.

"Oh, very well. Since it is Christmas, I'll drink to him... BUT I DON'T HAVE TO LIKE IT! A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to Mr. Wehrenberg. He'll be very merry and very happy, I have no doubt!" Selena replied.

The children drank the toast after her. It was the first of their proceedings which had no heartiness. Tiny Kopa drank it last of all.

"Well, that just about does it. Time for us to get goin." Dil said.

Zack grabbed onto Dil's robe, and the two teleported away into another house, but this one was more elegant then Le Fou's abode, upon which he discovered his nephew, Hans, with a group of people gathered together, talking to them. During the conversation, they were poking fun at him, making jokes and whatnot.

"Yes, he said that Christmas was a humbug. And he meant it too!" Hans said.

The other guests laughed at his words.

"Yeah, I tried to get him to come, but he just wouldn't have any of it. But it's okay. I feel sorry for him. I couldn't be angry with him if I tried. Besides, what does he lose by not coming? Not much of a dinner." Hans said.

After tea, they had some music. For they were a musical family, and knew what they were about, when they sung a Glee or Catch, I can assure you, which had been familiar to the two children who fetched Zack from the boarding-school, as he had been reminded by the Ghost of Christmas Past. When this strain of music sounded, all the things that ghost had shown him, came upon his mind. He softened more and more, and thought that if he could have listened to it often, years ago, he might have cultivated the kindnesses of life for his own happiness with his own hands. But they didn't devote the whole evening to music.

Zack's niece was not one of the blind-man's buff party, but was made comfortable with a large chair and a footstool, in a snug corner, where the ghost and Zack were close behind her. But she joined in the forfeits, and loved her love to admiration with all the letters of the alphabet. Likewise at the game of How, When, and Where, she was very great, and to the secret joy of Zack's nephew, beat her sisters hollow, though they were sharp girls too. There might have been twenty people there, young and old, but they all played, and so did Zack. For wholly forgetting in the interest he had in what was going on, that his voice made no sound in their ears, he sometimes came out with his guess quite loud, and very often guessed quite right too. For the sharpest needle, best Whitechapel, warranted not to cut in the eye, was not sharper then Zack, blunt as he took it in his head to be. The ghost was greatly pleased to find him in this mood, and looked upon him with such favor, that he begged like a boy to be allowed to stay until the guests departed. But that, the spirit said could not be done.

"Just a few more minutes. Their playing a new game." Zack pleaded.

It was a game called Yes and No, where Zack's nephew had to think of something, and the rest must find out what. He only answered to their questions yes or no, as the case was. The brisk fire of questioning to which he was exposed, elicited from him that he was thinking of an animal, a live animal, rather a disagreeable animal, a savage animal, an animal that growled and grunted sometimes, and talked sometimes, and lived in London, and walked about the streets, and wasn't made a show of, and wasn't led by anybody, and didn't live in a menagerie, and was never killed in a market, and was not a horse, or a donkey, or a cow, or a bull, or a tiger, or a dog, or a pig, or a cat, or a bear. At every fresh question that was put to him, this nephew burst into a fresh roar of laughter, and was so inexpressibly tickled that he was obliged to get up off the sofa and stamp. At last, Hans' wife got an idea.

"I have found it out! I know what it is, Hans! I know what it is!" Hans' wife called out.

"What is it?" Hans asked.

"It's your Uncle Zackary!" Hans' wife replied.

Which it certainly was, the other party guests agreed.

"He has given us plenty of merriment, I am sure. And it would be ungrateful not to drink his health, so therefore I say, 'Uncle Zack'!" Hans said.

"Well! Uncle Zack!" the others cried.

"A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to the old guy, whatever he is! He wouldn't take it from me, but may he have it, nevertheless. Uncle Zack!" Hans said.

The whole scene passed off in the breath of the last word spoken by his nephew, and he and the spirit were again upon their travels. It was a long night, but at last, the bell struck twelve.

"Well, that just about does it for me." Dil said.

"Your leaving already?" Zack asked.

"Yeah, I've got Christmas party to get to. All my close relatives are gonna be there. Plus, I gotta make sure Cousin Taffy doesn't eat all the pudding again this year. The Ghost of Christmas Future should be comin' by anytime now. Keep your eyes open. Ta ta!" Dil replied.

He then departed. As the last stroke ceased to vibrate, he remembered Angelica's words, and lifting up his eyes, beheld the most terrifying sight his very eyes had ever seen.


	6. The Last Of The Ghosts

**Chapter 6: The Last Of The Ghosts**

Zack was facing an ominous figure in a dark cloak.

"Are you the Ghost of Christmas Future?" Zack asked.

The spirit, known as Jesse, nodded.

"And your about to show me the things that have not happened, but will happen?" Zack asked.

Jesse nodded again. Although well used to ghostly company by this time, Zack feared the silent figure so much that his legs trembled beneath him, and he found that he could hardly stand when he prepared to follow it. The spirit paused a moment, as observing his condition, and gave him time to recover. But Zack was all the worse for that. It thrilled him with a vague uncertain horror, to know that behind the dusky shroud, there were ghostly eyes intently fixed upon him, while he, though he stretched his own to the utmost, could see nothing but a spectral hand and one great heap of black.

"I know your just here to do me good, but I'm afraid I fear you more then any ghost I've seen so far. But, lead on." Zack said.

It gave him no reply. The hand was pointed straight before them. Zack followed in the shadow of it's cloak, which bore him up he thought, and carried him along. They scarcely seemed to enter the city, for it rather seemed to spring up about them, and encompass them of it's own act. But there they were, in the heart of it, among the merchants, who hurried up and down and chinked the money in their pockets, and conversed in groups, and looked at their watches, and trifled thoughtfully with their great gold seals and so forth, as Zack had seen them often. The spirit stopped beside one a group of businessmen. Observing that the hand was pointed to them, Zack advanced to listen to their talk.

"No, I don't know much about it, either way. I only know he's dead." a redhead named Chuckie said.

"When did he die?" a businessman asked.

"Last night, I believe." Chuckie replied.

"Well, what was the matter with him?" the second businessman asked.

"Not sure." Chuckie replied with a yawn.

"What has he done with his money?" the third businessman asked.

"I haven't heard. He hasn't left it to me. That's all I know." Chuckie replied.

The group laughed.

"It's likely to be a very cheap funeral. For the life of me, I can't think of anybody who would go to it." the first businessman said.

"I wouldn't mind going if lunch is provided." Chuckie said.

The group laughed before strolling away. Zack knew all the men perfectly. They were men of business, very wealthy and of great importance. He had made a point always of standing well in their esteem, in a business point of view that is. Dark and ominous, beside him stood Jesse, with his outstretched hand. When he roused himself from his thoughtful quest, he fancied from the turn of the hand, and it's situation in reference to himself, that the eyes were looking at him keenly. It made him shudder and feel very cold.

They left the busy scene, and went into an obscure part of the town where Zack had never been to before, although he recognized it's situation and bad repute. The ways were foul and narrow, the shops and houses wretched, and the people half-naked, drunken, slipshod, and ugly. Alleys and archways, like so many cesspools, disgorged their offences of smell, and dirt, and life, upon the straggling streets, and the whole quarter reeked with crime, with filth, and misery. Far in this den of infamous resort, there was a low-browed, beetling shop, below a pent-house roof, where iron, old rags, bottles, bones, and greasy offal were bought. Upon the floor within, were piled up heaps of rusty keys, nails, chains, hinges, files, scales, weights, and refuse iron of all kinds. Secrets that few would like to scrutinize were bred and hidden in mountains of unseemly rags, masses of corrupted fat, and sepulchres of bones. Sitting in among the wares he dealt in, by a charcoal stove, made of old bricks, was a purple haired man, who had screened himself from the cold air without, by a frousy curtaining of miscellaneous tatters hung upon a line, and smoked his pipe in all the luxury of calm retirement. Zack and Jesse came into the presence of the man, just as another man with a heavy bundle slunk into the shop. But he had scarcely entered when a woman, who turned out to be Kimi much to Zack's surprise and was married to the second man, came in too, and she was closely followed by a third man in faded black.

"Let the charman be the first! Let the laundress alone to be the second, and let the undertaker's man alone to be the third." he who had entered first cried.

"You couldn't have met in a better place. Come on in! Hehehehe! So, gentlemen, and lady, what ya got for me today?" the purple haired man, known as Tommy, asked, removing his pipe from his mouth.

The parlor was the space behind the screen of rags. Tommy raked the fire together with an old stair-rod, and having trimmed his smoky lamp (for it was night) with the stem of his pipe, put it in his mouth again. While he did this, the second man, known as Peter, who had already spoken threw his bundle on the floor, sat down on a stool.

"Well, that's nothing compared to what I've go." Peter replied.

"Here's my bundle, Tommy." Kimi added.

Tommy went down on his knees for the greater convenience of opening it, and having unfastened a great many knots, drug out a large and heavy roll of some dark stuff.

"What are these? Bed curtains?" Tommy asked.

"Yep." Kimi replied.

"What? Did you just take'em down, rings and all, with him lying there?" Tommy asked.

"Sure, why not? I have no care for him anymore." Kimi replied.

"Ehehehehehe! Well, I must say, you certainly know how to make a fortune." Tommy said.

"Here. I also got his blankets too." Kimi said.

"His blankets?" Tommy asked.

"It couldn't be anyone else's. But I don't think he's gonna get too cold where he's going." Peter replied.

"I hope the old coot didn't die of anything catching." Tommy said.

He stopped in his work and looked up, before producing a flannel bag with money in it and told out their several gains upon the ground.

"It's rather ironic, isn't it? The old fool didn't take good care of himself when he was alive, but he's more then taking care of us now that he's dead! Ha ha ha!" Tommy said.

Zack listened to this dialogue in horror. As they sat grouped about their spoil, in the scanty light afforded by Tommy's lamp, he viewed them with a detestation and disgust.

"Oh, I get. The case of this unhappy man might be my own. My life tends that way now... Merciful Heaven, what's this?" Zack asked.

He recoiled in terror, for the scene had changed, and now he almost touched a bare uncurtained bed, on which, beneath a ragged sheet, there laid someone covered up, which, though it was dumb, announced itself in awful language. The room was very dark, too dark to be observed with any accuracy, though Zack glanced round it in obedience to a secret impulse, anxious to know what kind of room it was. A pale light, rising in the outer air, fell straight upon the bed, and on it, plundered and bereft, unwatched, unwept, uncared for, was the body of this man. Zack glanced towards Jesse. It's steady hand was pointed to the head. The cover was so carelessly adjusted that the slightest raising of it, the motion of a finger upon Zack's part, would have disclosed the face. He thought of it, felt how easy it would be to do, and longed to do it, but had no more power to withdraw the veil then to dismiss the specter at his side. No voice pronounced these words in Zack's ears, and yet he heard them when he looked upon the bed. He thought, if this man could be raised up now, what would be his foremost thoughts? Avarice, hard-dealing, griping cares? They have brought him to a rich end, truly! He laid, in the dark empty house, with not a man, a woman, or a child, to say that he was kind to him in this or that, and for the memory of one kind word he will be kind to them. A cat was tearing at the door, and there was a sound of gnawing rats beneath the hearth-stone. What they wanted in the room of death, and why they were so restless and disturbed, Zack did not dare to think.

"Spirit! I think I know what or should I say 'who' is in that bed." Zack said.

Jesse pointed with an unmoved finger to the head.

"No, no, no, I can't do it! I just can't do it!" Zack said.

In response, Jesse transported himself and Zack to LeFou's house, the dwelling he had visited before, and found the mother and the children seated around the fire. It was very quiet. Le Fou's children were as still as statues in one corner, and sat looking up at their mother.

"Your father's late again. But then again, he has been walking slower then he used to since... Kopa... left us." Selena said.

She started to break into tears. But with her strength, she calmed herself.

"But your father loved him so." Selena said.

As if on cue, Le Fou entered into the abode. Selena hurried out to meet him. His tea was ready for him on the hob, and they all tried who should help him to it most. Then two of his children got upon his knees and laid, each child a little cheek, against his face, as if they said "Don't mind it, father. Don't be grieved!". Le Fou was very cheerful with them, and spoke pleasantly to all the family.

"Did you go to see him?" Selena asked.

"Yes, dear. I wish you could have been there. It would have done you good to see how nice a place it is. But you'll see it often. I promised him that I would visit him every Sunday." Le Fou replied.

He then broke down all at once. He couldn't help it. If he could have helped it, he and his child would have been farther apart perhaps than they were. He left the room and went upstairs into the room above, which was lighted cheerfully and hung with Christmas. There was a chair set close beside the child, and there were signs of someone having been there, lately. Poor Le Fou sat down in it, and when he had thought a little and composed himself, he kissed the little face. He was reconciled to what had happened, and went down again quite happy. They drew about the fire and talked, the girls and mother working still.

"Spirit, I have a feeling our time together is almost up. I probably already know this, but who was that man lying dead in the bed?" Zack asked.

Jesse waved his hands and the two were transported to a church graveyard. Jesse, once again towering over Zack, stood among the graves and pointed down to a particular one. Zack advanced towards it, trembling.

"Just tell me one thing. Are these the shadows of the things that will be, or what might be?" Zack asked.

Still, Jesse pointed downward to the grave. Zack crept towards it, trembling as he went. And following the finger, read upon the stone of the neglected grave his own name!

"Spirit! I'm not the man I was! I've seen the error of my ways, and I know I can change them! I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year! The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me! I will not forget the lessons the lessons that they have so generously taught me!" Zack cried on his knees.

He bowed in agony to Jesse, who gave a sly smile before he raised his hands and shrouded the man in deep darkness. As the darkness surrounded him, Zack wriggled and struggled, until at last, he found himself once again in his bed.


	7. The End Of It

**Chapter 7: The End Of It**

The bedpost was his own. The bed was his own, the room was his own. Best and happiest of all, the time before him was his own, to make amends in!

"I'm back! I'm alive! I'M ALIVE! Oh, Angelica, thank you, old friend! On my hand and knees, thank you!" Zack said, as he scrambled out of bed.

He was so fluttered and so glowing with his good intentions, that his broken voice would scarcely answer to his call. He had been sobbing violently in his conflict with the spirit, and his face was wet with tears.

"They are not torn down! They are not torn down! They are still here!" Zack cried, folding one of his bed-curtains in his arms.

His hands were busy with his garments all this time, turning them inside out, putting them on upside down, tearing them, mislaying them, making them parties to every kind of extravagance.

"I'm as light as a feather, I am as happy as an angel, I am as merry as a schoolboy. A Merry Christmas to everybody and happy New Year to the whole world." Zack said.

He had frisked into the sitting-room, and was now standing there, perfectly winded.

"There's the saucepan that the gruel was in!" Zack cried. He started off again, went around the fireplace, and said "There's the door, by which the Ghost of Angelica Pickles entered! There's the corner where the Ghost of Christmas Present sat! There's the window where I saw the wandering spirits! I'm not crazy! It all happened!".

Really, for a man who had been out of practice for so many years, it was a splendid laugh, a most illustrious laugh. The father of a long, long line of brilliant laughs! He was checked in his transports by the churches ringing out the lustiest peals he had ever heard. Clash, clang, hammer, ding, dong, bell. Bell, dong, ding, hammer, clang, clash!

"Wait, what day is it? I've got to know!" Zack exclaimed.

He took a large stool and climbed up to the window. He opened it, and put out his head. No fog, no mist. Clear, bright, jovial, stirring, cold, piping for the blood to dance to. Golden sunlight, heavenly sky, sweet fresh air, and merry bells.

"Hey, you down there! What's today?" Zack called out.

He was calling downward to a guy in Sunday clothes known as Pit.

"Are you addressing me, sir?" Pit asked.

"Yeah, what is today?" Zack asked.

"Today? Why, it's Christmas Day, of course." Pit replied.

"Christmas Day! I haven't missed it. The Spirits have done it all in one night. Well, why not? They can do anything they want!" Zack said to himself. He then called out "Listen, do you know the Poultry shop in the next street, at the corner?".

"I sure do!" Pit replied.

"Do you know if they've sold the prize Turkey that's hanging by the window?" Zack asked.

"The one ten times as big as me?" Pit asked.

"Yes, yes! The very same!" Zack replied.

"It's still hanging there now." Pit said.

"Great to hear! Go and buy it!" Zack ordered.

"Have you lost your marbles?" Pit asked.

"No, no, no, no, I'm serious. Go and buy it, and tell the guys to bring it here, and I'll tell them where to take it. Do that and I'll pay you. Do it in less than five minutes and I'll pay you double!" Zack replied.

And with that, Pit was off like a shot.

"I'll send it to Le Fou's! And he won't know who sent it to him." Zack whispered, rubbing his hands and splitting with a laugh.

The hand in which he wrote the address was not a steady one, but write it he did, somehow, and went downstairs to open the street door, ready for the coming of the poulterer's man. As he stood there, waiting his arrival, the knocker caught his eye.

"I definitely won't forget what happened here." Zack said.

Soon, a man with the mentioned turkey had arrived.

"Hey there, my good man! Merry Christmas!" Zack greeted.

It was a turkey! He never could have stood upon his legs, that bird. He would have snapped 'em short off in a minute, like sticks of sealing-wax.

"Why, it's impossible to carry that the whole way, sir. You need a cab." Zack said.

The chuckle with which he said this, and the chuckle with which he paid for the Turkey, and the chuckle with which he paid for the cab, and the chuckle with which he recompensed the boy, were only to be exceeded by the chuckle with which he sat down breathless in his chair again, and chuckled till he cried. He dressed himself "all in his best", and at last got out into the streets. The people were by this time pouring forth, as he had seen them with the Ghost of Christmas Present, and walking with his hands behind him, Zack regarded every one with a delighted smile. He looked so irresistibly pleasant, in a word, that three or four good-humoured fellows said "Good morning, sir! A merry Christmas to you!". And Zack said often afterwards, that of all the blithe sounds he had ever heard, those were the blithest in his ears. He had not gone far, when he came across Iniabi and Severa, who had walked into his counting house the day before.

"Ah, just the people I was looking for." Zack said.

"Mr. Wehrenberg?" Iniabi asked.

"That's my name, and after the way I treated you both last night, I wouldn't blame you if my name was the last one you wanted to hear. But before I go, about that donation to the poor." Zack replied.

He whispered the amount in Iniabi's ear.

"My goodness! Mr. Wehrenberg, are you serious?" Iniabi asked, as if his breath were taken away.

"And not a penny less." Zack replied.

"I really don't know what to say." Iniabi said.

"Don't say anything. Just come and see me later on today. Thank you and God Bless You." Zack said.

He went to church, and walked about the streets, and watched the people hurrying to and fro, and patted children on the head, and questioned beggars, and looked down into the kitchens of houses, and up to the windows, and found that everything could yield him pleasure. He had never dreamed that any walk, that anything, could give him so much happiness. In the afternoon, he turned his steps towards his nephew's house. He passed the door a dozen times, before he had the courage to go up and knock. But he made a dash, and did it.

"Is your master at home, my dear?" Zack asked.

"Yes, sir." Hans' butler replied.

"Where is he?" Zack asked.

"He's in the dining room, sir, along with mistress. I'll show you upstairs, if you please." the butler replied.

"Thank you, sir." Zack said, with his hand already on the dining room lock.

He turned it gently, and sidled his face in, around the door. They were looking at the table (which was spread out in great array), for the young housekeepers were always nervous on such points, and like to see that everything is right.

"Hans." Zack greeted.

"Uncle Zack?" Hans asked.

"Yes, it's me. I have come for Christmas dinner, if you'll have me." Zack replied.

Let him in! It is a mercy he didn't shake his arm off. He was at home in five minutes. Nothing could be heartier. His niece looked just the same. So did Topper when he came. So did the plump sister when she came. So did every one when they came. Wonderful party, wonderful games, wonderful unanimity, won-der-ful happiness!

* * *

The next morning, he was early at work. And as he suspected, Le Fou was late. The clock struck nine. No Le Fou. A quarter past. No Le Fou. He was full eighteen minutes and a half behind his time. Zack sat with his door wide open, that he might see him come into the tank. His hat was off, before he opened the door, his comforter too. He was on his stool in a jiffy,driving away with his pen, as if he were trying to overtake nine o'clock.

"Le Fou! Your late." Zack growled, in his accustomed voice, as near as he could feign it.

"Yes, well, sorry about that, sir." Le Fou said.

"You should be. Come over here." Zack ordered.

"I'm sorry, sir, but it's only once a year. I was having quite a time with the family last night." Le Fou pleaded, appearing from the tank.

"Now you listen to me, I am not going to stand this sort of thing any longer. And therefore." Zack said. He leaped from his stool, and giving Le Fou such a dig in the waistcoat that he staggered back into the tank again, said "And therefore, I am about to raise your salary!".

"W-What?" Le Fou asked in confusion.

"Yep! Raise your salary! A very merry Christmas, Le Fou. I'll raise your salary, and do anything I can to help your struggling family, and we will discuss your affairs this very afternoon, over a bowl of Christmas punch!" Zack replied, with an earnestness that could not be mistaken, as he clapped him on the back. He then ordered "Well, don't stand there with your mouth hanging open! Make up the fires, and buy us some more coal! It's freezing in here!".

And with that, Le Fou rushed out of the counting house.

Zack was better then his word. He did it all, and infinitely more. And to Tiny kopa, who did not die, he was a second father. He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old town knew, or any other town for that matter. He never saw Angelica or the spirits again, but he kept their lessons to heart. And it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Kopa observed: "Yeah, yeah, God Bless Us, Everyone.".


	8. After The Play

**Chapter 8: After The Play**

So after it all, despite the speculation and the doubts, when it was all said and done, and the cast approached the stage, they were met a sincere and rousing standing ovation. The cast all accepted the applause and bowed. Later in the dressing room, the group all took off their costumes.

"Ahh! Glad that's over!" Amber said in relief.

"I thought it was actually fun." Susie said.

"Fun? We weren't even the stars!" Amber said.

"Well, at least now, we can collect our money and go home." Angelica said.

"Agreed." Severa said.

Peter smirked.

"Not quite. Lil, you said you wanted to do a Christmas party instead of a play, right?" Peter asked.

"Um... yeah. Why are you asking?" Lil asked.

"I have an idea." Peter replied.

* * *

 _"Location: Orlando, Florida, December 25th 2016"_

The next morning, the Disney Characters and Nickelodeon Characters were given mysterious invitations to Cinderella Castle. Led by Mickey and Minnie, they approached the door. Mickey knocked on the castle doors, and to their shock, Phil answered.

"Mickey, Minnie! Come on in!" Phil greeted.

The brown haired boy guided the guests to a ballroom set aside for the Disney Characters whenever all of them were in Disney World and threw private parties, where a cavalcade of Christmas decorations littered the hall. In the center of the room, a humongous tree covered with decoration and lit with the brightest lights stood. And in front of it stood each and every one of the play's cast with presents in their hands.

"What? What is all this?" Mickey asked.

"Well, Peter had the idea of having a Christmas party after the play, since most of us originally wanted to a party instead. So, we invited all of you down here to celebrate the holiday." Chuckie replied.

"Wow, that's... quite nice, actually." Scar said.

"Even you wanted this, Angelica?" Cinderella asked.

"Don't get used to it. This is only for one year." Angelica replied.

Even if it was true and it was in fact for one year, Cinderella still couldn't help but smile. And with that, the cast handed out presents left and right, and everyone commenced with a holiday celebration. They all embraced and enjoyed it while it lasted.

But the best was still to come.

Later that night, everyone, heroes and villains alike, gathered outside in front of the castle. Jafar and Maleficent, using their magic staffs, creating a barrage of fireworks in the sky. The crowd looked in awe at the magnificence of the display. Inspired by that, Mickey gathered up all the party members, and they all joined together for a Christmas song.

 _Silent night, holy night,_

 _All is calm, all is bright,_

 _Round young virgin,_

 _Mother and child,_

 _Holy infant so tender and mild_

 _Sleep in heavenly peace,_

 _Sleep in heavenly peace._

* * *

 **Merry Christmas**

 **From the Rugrats and co.**


End file.
